


Scripted

by NuttyHazelnut



Series: Silver Screen [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Actor AU, Because there will be smut eventually, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Graduate School AU, M/M, Mentions of Anxiety, Mutual Pining, Otaburi, Rating will change, Slow Burn, Theater School AU, Three AUs in one now ain't that some shit, so much it hurts, viktuuri
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-22
Updated: 2017-03-20
Packaged: 2018-09-26 06:16:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9871151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NuttyHazelnut/pseuds/NuttyHazelnut
Summary: Viktor Nikiforov is a wildly successful theater-turned-Hollywood actor who fears he's plateaued.Yuuri Katsuki, on the other hand, is an up-and-coming thespian who struggles with jumpstarting his career. All the while dealing with his anxiety. Clearly, going to the same school as his Russian idol didn't help much.Both out of ideas, they decide to pursue graduate studies in their alma mater. They work on a play together and, along the way, maybe even pursue something more with each other.





	1. How they Met

**Author's Note:**

> This is me trying to cure a four-year writer's block with a series that is very near and dear to my heart. General comments and constructive criticisms are very much welcome!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a prologue of sorts.
> 
> Their first meeting wasn't ideal, but it was certainly unforgettable.

Backstage was utter chaos. The propmen made a final check to ensure the props were in their proper place, one actress accused another of stealing her foundation (the rest of the actors wo did their makeup pointed fingers and eventually accused the first girl herself of being careless), the costume team helped the rest of the actors put on their outfits, with the exception of one team member who mended a hole in someone’s pants, threatening to kill the asshole propman responsible if the damage was visible onstage. And, in the middle of it all, the stage manager frantically yelled final reminders, while simultaneously talking to the technical team about the lighting via walkie talkie.

Yuuri was at the periphery of all this, trying his very best not to completely lose his shit. Though backstage jitters were always a thing, a lot of the senior theater majors’ college degrees depended on this play, himself included. This boosted his and everyone else’s nerves and stress by at least seventy thousand percent. He already had a hard time calming himself down before regular class plays – the anxiety he felt this time, however, pushed him to his breaking point. Yuuri tried the deep breathing exercises his guidance counselor taught him – slow deep breaths with five-second intervals between inhales and exhales. A wary glance at the clock above the backstage door told him there was an hour and a half left before the curtains rise. And with that, the breathing exercises failed, his breaths becoming quicker and shorter instead.

He clutched his script – wrinkled, annotated, and dog-eared – as he mumbled his lines. He kept getting fumbling as he did so, which further heightened his frustration. He cursed himself and said the lines faster, only to screw them up again. His grip on his script grew tighter, leaving more wrinkles and tears.

Yuuri’s concentration was broken when one of the costume team members called out to him.

“Othello! We need to get you in costume.”

She walked over to Yuuri and quickly led him by the arm to the makeshift dressing room at the other end of the room. The real dressing room was used as a locker for all their things so the costumes and makeup team created their own space at corner of the room using Japanese dividers left over from a previous play. She took his costume from one of the hanger racks and held it out to him.

“Go change over there,” she said, motioning to the back of the area where thick, black curtains hung. A sheet of paper with the words “CHANGING AREA BOYS” in black marker was crudely taped to it.

Yuuri nodded, gave the girl his script to hold, and went. Only when he was inside did he peek at his costume. The costume was a white shirt with loose, puffy sleeves, a blue ornate belt, and black pants. Simple and clean cut, it was perfect for Othello’s image as a powerful Venetian general.

Once he finished putting it on, Yuuri looked at himself in the mirror, inspecting the costume’s fit.

A realization then hit him like a ton of bricks.

This was really happening.

He, Yuuri Katsuki, was to play Othello in the biggest play of his life. The very same Othello that was regarded as the most difficult of Shakespeare’s roles. In front of a massive, judging audience.

And he wasn’t ready.

Yuuri scrambled to get out of the changing room, gasping for fresh air. Unfortunately, the backstage air was stale and filled with everybody else’s nervous energy, so it wasn’t doing him any favors. He could feel his breathing quicken again, now with the added threat of tears falling from his eyes.

“Yuuri?” someone asked.

It was the costume member who called out to him a while ago. Her eyes were full of concern as she bounded to him and slowly gripped his arm in hers. She reached to give him his script with her other hand.

“Are you okay, Yuuri?” she continued, clinging tighter to him.

“I’m fine,” he said, voice gruff, roughly pulling his arm from her grip. He took his script back quickly. “Thanks.”

The costume girl’s eyes were downcast, looking disappointed. But she pushed on, placing a hand on Yuuri’s arm as she looked over his costume. “How’s the fit? Do you think we need to adjust it anywhere?”

Yuuri shook his head. “No. Everything’s fine. Now excuse me,” he said flatly, effectively ending their conversation. He jogged back to his spot to rehearse his lines, still feeling as panicky and unprepared as ever. One of the makeup team members tried to stop him so he could get his makeup done, but he pretended not to hear and continued on his way.

Once back at his usual spot, Yuuri couldn’t rehearse a single line without fumbling or stuttering. He lied down on the floor with his head in his hands and retried his breathing exercises.

This couldn’t get any worse, right?

Right?

But _of course_ it does.

The class’ faculty adviser and director, Mr. Yakov Feltsman, entered backstage and yelled for everyone to keep quiet. He motioned for all of them to gather in front of him by the backstage entrance. Yuuri stood up, grabbed his script, and positioned himself at the very back of the crowd. He can tell someone’s by the door behind their adviser, but he couldn’t make out who it was because Yakov’s stocky build blocked his view.

Yakov spoke once he had everyone’s attention. “During the seniors’ final play, we invite alumni to watch and see how far our new talents are coming along. This year,” he said, pausing as he motioned the man behind him to enter, “we have a very special guest.”

The guest walked inside and Yuuri heard a collective gasp as jaws hit the floor.

Yuuri dropped his script.

It’s _the_ Viktor Nikiforov.

Like, the award-winning movie star Viktor Nikiforov. The one plastered on the walls of Yuuri’s room back in Hasetsu. The one handsome one with the shiniest of silver hair, the brightest of blue eyes. and the deadliest of defined jawlines. The one that could who got him to pursue acting in the first place.

Yeah, _that_ one.

Viktor waved at them, beaming his billion-dollar smile. He wore a three-piece navy blue and white pinstripe suit with a metallic gold necktie. The outfit complemented his lean but athletic figure and brought out his eyes. Yuuri thought he looked amazing.

“Hey everybody!” Viktor said cheerfully.

 _Oh my god, he speaks_ , Yuuri thought. The man’s slight Russian accent was sexier in person, and the actual person even more so.

 “I’m so glad to see so many of you here!” Viktor said with a smile brighter than the one he initially gave, arms outstretched. “I can tell most of you are tired – this _is_ the most stressful day of your entire undergrad lives – but that’s okay!”

Viktor paused for a moment, assessing his audience. Yuuri felt the tension and panic rise in the room. He honestly doesn’t know if Viktor is here to give them a pep talk or to preempt their doom. The latter man broke the silence by laughing.

“Really, you’re all so tense! The probability of you screwing up is higher if you keep that up, you know.”

To this Yuuri’s class gave a tiny, nervous chuckle. Viktor replied with a giggle. “I’ve been through this myself so I know how hard you’ve all had to work for this. I also know that you wish you had more time to perfect this or that. But no time in the world can ever make you feel ready, so just go with it! You’ve all prepared well and done what you can – that’s more than what you can ask for.”

The class’ mood lightened up a bit. Some of them even gave Viktor small smiles.

“Lastly, remember everything on that stage and everything behind it is love – you wouldn’t be in theater if you didn’t love it. So it’s not an exaggeration to say you’ve all lent your hearts to this production,” Viktor continued, trying his best to make eye contact with everyone gathered. The moment he locked eyes with Yuuri the latter man thought he would burst into flames.

“And if you’ve survived Yakov’s Spartan methods, then those hearts are strong. Break a leg!”

The class cheered. Yuuri can feel himself getting pumped up, charmed by Viktor’s speech.

“Oh, and before I forget,” Viktor added, voice low. “I’ll be watching you.”

The class was momentarily refilled with nervous energy. But since this was the second time Viktor teased them, no one took it to heart. Instead, they chuckle and hover around Viktor, asking for selfies.

Everyone except Yuuri.

Viktor’s pep talk did the opposite for him. While the Russian actor’s surprise appearance first put him on a delightful high, reality’s weight made him crash and burn.

Viktor Nikiforov, his idol and celebrity crush of many years, will be watching him. And if Viktor will, then surely several of the school’s distinguished alumni will too. Plus all the theater faculty, the students, and the staff.

In his mind’s eye Yuuri saw all those eyes scrutinizing his performance, piercing his skin and dissecting his body with their gaze, judging whether he should graduate or not. He can already hear them say he was shit and he shouldn’t graduate. Afterwards he’d have to return home to Hasetsu with his tail between his legs as the failure who wasted his parents’ money.

At this point, his barely contained panic turned into a full-blown panic attack.

He was very sure he was going to fuck up.

Yuuri’s breathing suddenly got heavier. His throat felt constrained and the tears that threatened to fall from his eyes a while ago started to run down his cheeks. He bent down and shakily picked up his neglected script. His eyes met with Viktor’s once he rose.

“Photo?” the Russian asked.

Yuuri was stunned. He gave Viktor a teary, wide-eyed stare.

He wasn’t even sure if he could say something because he’d have to breathe first, which he stopped doing the moment Viktor spoke to him.

Viktor looked at him expectantly, eyebrows raised. Yuuri realized the Viktor was waiting for him to answer.

While he stared and cried silently.

Panicked and embarrassed, Yuuri walked briskly away.

He left the backstage area with his head lowered. Once out the door, he ran full speed up the stairwell and into the men’s bathroom at the second floor. He entered a bathroom stall, locked the door, and started full-on sobbing with his head in his hands.

 _I can’t do this, I can’t do this, I can’t do this_.

Yakov knew he didn’t handle pressure well. Why did the man even give him Othello’s role? He wasn’t enough. There were better actors in class. Surely someone could replace him?

Yuuri already knew the answer. An extra actor can be replaced quickly. But Othello? Othello had so many lines it would be impossible to find a replacement in less than an hour. Even if they did miraculously find someone who memorized the play by heart, they still can’t teach blocking and stage directions in such a short amount of time.

If he did perform though, it was a guarantee that he’d screw up monumentally.

Yuuri wasn’t sure if he’d rather let the class down by performing or by doing nothing at all.

After a sigh and a frustrated hand through his hair, he pulled out his phone to try and call someone. Maybe Phichit, his ever cheerful roommate. He dialed Phichit’s number, only to be lead to voicemail.

“ _Hey! It’s Phichit! Can’t pick up right now, got a final to ace. Feel free to leave a message!_ ”

Right, Phichit told him he had a final that would end thirty minutes before the show. Yuuri cancelled the call with shaky hands.

In a final attempt to get a grip, he started doing his breathing exercises again. He started breathing deep breaths and exhaling long and slow. He began to look at his surroundings to ground himself. He saw the tiled floor, the old, wooden bathroom stall, and the crappy graffiti all over it. He heard the muffled sound of cars driving past the street below.

When he finished listing off what he saw and heard in his surroundings, he began to recount information about himself.

What was his name? Yuuri Katsuki.

How old was he? Twenty-two.

Where was he? In New York. In one of the best theater schools in the world.

What was he studying? Acting.

How’s it going? Well enough.

Yuuri started calming down. He felt mind clear up and his breathing normalize.

Until his phone started ringing.

He whipped out his phone from his pants pocket and looked at the caller ID. His eyebrows arched in mild surprise to find that it was his mother on FaceTime. He picked it up.

“Hello, Yuuri?” his mother started. It was comforting to hear her speak Japanese.

“Hi mom. I’m doing okay,” he replied, still not quite believing what he said.

“That’s good, honey. I know this is a stressful time for you. I called to tell you _ganbare_!”

“Thank you,” Yuuri replied, a small smile on his face. “You know in English, they say ‘break a leg’ instead, because they believe that good luck will jinx them.”

“Good thing we’re speaking in Japanese then,” his mother quipped with a laugh.

He laughed too. “How’s Vicchan?”

Yuuri’s mother went silent. Then he heard her take a deep breath. “ _Kaa-san_?”

“Yuuri, look, I’m sorry I can’t lie to you,” his mother finally said, voice low. “You know how terrible I am at lying. Vicchan he… he passed away this morning.”

The news was the final nail on the coffin of his pretend calmness. Vicchan, his beloved dog, was dead. And he… wasn’t there for him. Like he won’t be for his class.

Yuuri started sobbing harder than he did before. He was not okay.

\---

“Othello! Where the fuck is Othello?!”

Viktor heard someone yell to his left, just as he finished his selfie and autograph session with Yakov’s students. It was the class’ visibly stressed stage manager. Her long dark hair was in a messy ponytail, there were dark bags under her eyes, and she looked deathly pale.

“Yuuri!” the stage manager yelled again, exasperated. “Has anyone see him?! He’s not answering his phone and we’re on in 30 minutes!”

Nobody responded. More specifically, they _couldn’t._ The actors sat in a circle, hands linked while performing speech exercises. On the other side of the room, the costume and props members were preoccupied with laying out the props and costumes by scene. Yakov, the only responsible faculty member that could help them, left backstage to greet the other guests.

The stage manager sighed in frustration at their lack of reaction. She couldn’t even be mad.

Viktor approached her, seeing as he was the only one free to do so. “Do you need some help?” he asked.

Her eyes lit up but she quickly attempted to keep her face neutral. “I don’t think Mr. Feltsman would allow me to ask you for help,” she paused, considering what she was about to say next. “But yes, I do. Please. Our Othello’s gone missing.”

“Yuuri?”

“Yeah, it’s Yuuri. The Japanese guy with the glasses. Sounds like a generic description but he’s the only one in our class.”

There was a flash of recognition in Viktor’s eyes. He remembered Yuuri.

How could he not? Yuuri was the only person who ever ran away crying from him when he asked if they wanted a photo.  

“I saw him! He left backstage.”

“Shit! Um, can you please look for him over there? I’ll cover the front of the theater. There’s not much time.”

“Yes, of course.”

“Thank you!” she said gratefully before she ran outside.

As the stage manager left, Viktor suddenly realized that he was pretty much tasked of looking for a needle in a haystack. Assuming the school left everything the way it was when he was in college, he recalled he had two floors with long, winding halls to go through to look for Yuuri. And this was only if the latter man didn’t leave the building.

Still, he figured he had to start somewhere.

He was about to begin his search someone called him

“Mr. Nikiforov?”

He turned to see one of the girls from the costume department. She looked up at him shyly with doe-like eyes.

“Yes?” he replied. There was a smile on his face but a slight impatience in his tone.

“S-sorry but i-if you’re looking for Yuuri,” she said, fumbling with her hands, “you should try going to the men’s bathroom on the second floor.”

“How do you know he’d be there?”

“We’ve had a few classes together and right before plays I always saw him go there by himself.”

“Why didn’t you tell anyone sooner? Or look for him yourself?” he scolded. Normally he’d be kinder to strangers but there wouldn’t have been a problem if this girl spoke up earlier. _Wasting time is a sin in theater,_ he thought.

“B-because! I know that’s his quiet place. And… I don’t think he wants to see me there.” She answered, head low.

Viktor raised an inquisitive eyebrow but said nothing. There was a story there, but he didn’t have the time to hear it.

“I’m sorry for snapping at you,” he said, waving the girl off. “But thank you for telling me. I’ll bring him back soon.”

Viktor quickly left backstage and climbed the stairs to the second floor. The men’s bathroom was to the left, at the end of the hall. As he walked, he imagined what he would say to Yuuri. How would he go about it? Would he scold Yuuri like he did the costume department girl? Or would he gently coax him to go back? He didn’t have enough time to think as he reached the bathroom door soon enough. After a deep breath, he pushed it open.

The bathroom looked empty. All the stalls were open, save for the one in the middle. Viktor carefully made his way to it and heard the faint sound of whimpering. The sound stopped once he’d managed to make it in front of stall.

He mentally counted to three and spoke.

 “Yuuri?” he said.

There was no response. He tried again.

“Yuuri? Is that you? It’s Viktor Nikiforov.”

 “Viktor?” the person inside the stall croaked. Their voice was hoarse, which Viktor noted was the result of crying.

“Yup, it’s me. This is Yuuri, right?”

“…Yes.”

Viktor smiled. He’d found him. But now he had another problem: how can he convince Yuuri to exit the stall and act in the play?

“Um, Yuuri,” he cooed, unsure of what to say next. “Are you okay? Would you like some water?”

“I-I want to go home.”

“Yuuri, you can’t do that. You have a show to perform. Your class needs you.”

There was a pause. Viktor should _not_ have said that.

“I’m n-not good enough!” Yuuri replied, hand loudly slamming against the bathroom stall door, making Viktor flinch. “Mr. Feltsman shouldn’t have picked me to play Othello!”

Viktor sighed. Yuuri started crying again. Guilt-tripping him like this wasn’t going to work.

“Yuuri,” Viktor began again. “Can you open the door for me? Please? I only want to talk to you.”

“You _are_ talking to me.”

“I meant face-to-face. Pretty please?”

After a pause Yuuri unlocked the door and swung it open. He was seated on the toilet seat, arms and knees brought together to make himself look smaller. His continuously vibrating phone was in his shaking hands. Viktor noted his eyes were red and puffy from crying, his glasses, wet from tears, were barely hanging on to his nose bridge, and his disheveled hair fell stickily in front of his face. He looked at Viktor like a scared, defenseless animal.

Viktor felt a tug at his heart. Unsteadily, he knelt in front of the younger man.

“May I… hold your hands?” he asked, voice giving away his uncertainty. To be honest, Viktor had no idea what he was doing. Yuuri was crying in front of him, obviously stressed and panicked, and he wanted to try his best to calm the younger man down.

Yuuri gave him a small nod and Viktor gently took the younger man's hands in his. As he did so, he slowly pried Yuuri’s phone from the younger man’s hand and put it on the ground.

He looked Yuuri directly in the eyes. The latter man stared at him wide-eyed and his heart skipped a beat. They were a lovely shade of chocolate brown.

“Yuuri,” he said. This is the third time during their conversation that he used the Yuuri’s name and he felt like he couldn’t say it enough. “I know you’re panicked and stressed out right now, but I believe you can do this, okay? Yakov wouldn’t pick you to be Othello if he didn’t see that you had it in you. And,” he gripped Yuuri’s hand’s tighter, “I’ve known you for less than an hour but I believe in you, too.”

Yuuri’s stopped crying at this point, and Viktor could tell that his hands stopped shaking. He continued. “Remember what I said about you all lending your hearts to this production?” Yuuri nodded in response. “Well, actors lend more of their hearts than others. We lend our hearts so that the characters on stage come alive.”

Seeing that he had Yuuri’s full attention, Viktor brought the latter man’s hands closer to his chest. “Y-Yuuri,” he stammered. “If you feel like your heart isn’t enough for this role I can lend you mine.”

Viktor’s face suddenly flushed red. What the hell was he saying to a crying guy he just met? He meant it, but not like romantically or anything, since he knew more than anyone how fragile actors were. But what did Yuuri think?

Yuuri laughed. It was a melodic, heartfelt laugh that made Viktor’s heart pound harder. “I knew you had a flair for the dramatic but I didn’t know you were such a cheeseball” he said.

“I meant it Yuuri! You got this! How can you fail when you have Viktor Nikiforv’s heart in your hands? You’re basically infallible!”

Yuuri laughed at him again. “Not only are you a cheeseball, you’re an egotistical cheeseball.”

Viktor gave him a genuine smile. “Well, at least I know you’re better now. So, do you think you can do this?”

Yuuri gave him a small nod. “I think I can,” Yuuri looked him in the eye. “Thank you.”

“No problem. Do you want to wash your face before we head back?”

Yuuri nodded again and unclasped their hands as he headed for the sink. Viktor noticed Yuuri’s phone was vibrating again. He peeked at the screen and the words _Stage Manager_ flashed back at him.

“Hey, Yuuri, the stage manager’s calling you. Do you want me to pick it up?”

“Yes please,” Yuuri replied between splashes of water.

Viktor picked it up. He reintroduced himself to her again and told her that he’d found Yuuri and that they’d be back in five minutes. Viktor heard her sigh in relief before he ended the call. “Are you ready, Yuuri?”

“Yeah. Thank you again, Viktor.”

“And I keep telling you, no problem.” Viktor replied, handing Yuuri his phone back. “So, shall we?”

Yuuri and Viktor walked side by side until they reached the backstage area. No words were exchanged between them, but Viktor could see the change in Yuuri. There was a determined fire within those beautiful eyes, not that defenseless animal look Viktor saw earlier. Once they reached backstage the stage manager yanked Yuuri by the hand, thanked Viktor profusely, and whisked Yuuri away to get his make-up done. “We owe you, Viktor!” she yelled, before turning her back and telling everyone to get into position.

While Viktor didn’t like being tossed aside so rapidly, he understood that the class had work to do. He took this as his turn to leave backstage and head for the theater lobby, where a stars-struck usher lead him to his reserved seat on front row. Nobody else made a fuss as he entered, probably because the ushers were all in a hurry to get everyone seated and made no time for distractions. He thanked the usher who guided him to his seat with his billion-dollar smile, making the poor girl blush. As he sat down, he saw his young, blonde companion was already on the seat next to his, preoccupied with scrolling through his phone.

“Sorry I took so long, Yuri.”

The boy didn’t even spare him a glance. “I don’t really give a shit about where you go, Viktor. So long as you give me a ride back.”

“I missed you too,” Viktor retorted.

Yuri gave him a low, pissed-off growl in reply. As he did, the lights in the theater started dimming and a voice told them that it would be ten minutes before the performance began.

“So, what’s so great about Othello, anyway?” Yuri asked.

“It’s a classic, Yuri. As an actor you should pay attention.”

“Othello, Oshmellow,” Yuri huffed.

The conversation between them died. Soon enough the theater was enveloped in darkness and the curtains parted. Viktor noted that they were truthful to Shakespeare with the bare set design. Loud footsteps were heard on the right as the actors playing Roderigo and Iago took the stage. Viktor thought they were good, but were obviously nervous. He wanted them to get their scene over with so he could see Yuuri, who he recalled would only be making an appearance on the second scene. Viktor would be lying if he said he wasn’t intrigued by the fact that the crying guy in the bathroom stall was good enough for Yakov to pick as Othello.

The first scene ended with the two actors exiting on stage left. The lights dim for a moment before the second scene started.

Viktor audibly gasped when Yuuri took the stage.

Yuuri did a 180 in the short amount of time it took him to get ready. His glasses were gone and his formerly disheveled hair was neatly slicked back. There was a cape that draped over his shoulders and pinned on his chest. His posture is straight and his eyes. His eyes! The fire and determination Viktor saw on their way backstage was so visible Yuuri practically glowed with it.

In short, Viktor thought Yuuri was absolutely mesmerizing.

Then, he spoke.

“'Tis better as it is.”

It was a simple first line, but Viktor though he was amazing. Yuuri continued to grab Viktor’s attention as the play progressed, until Viktor couldn’t even take his eyes off him. He’d watched and performed Shakespeare countless times during his student days but Yuuri gave them a whole new refreshing light with the way he magnificently delivered his lines – the way he showed anger, grief, joy – and bounced off the energy of other actors.

Viktor didn’t even realize that the play was over when Yuuri/Othello brought the hidden sword from his costume and killed himself. He was stunned. Then, he started clapping.

When the curtains rose and the actors each give their final bow, Viktor directed his eyes at Yuuri. The younger man was smiling from ear to ear. As Yuuri walked to the middle of the stage to take his bow, Viktor immediately leaped of his seat and cheered Yuuri on. The latter man noticed him (he _was_ Viktor Nikiforov – on front row – how could Yuuri not?), smiled, and mouthed “thank you.” Once Yuuri bowed, Viktor realized other audience members also gave the younger man a standing ovation. Even Yuri, with all his faux apathy, begrudgingly stood up and clapped. The only thing that ruined the moment for Viktor was that it ended – Yuuri broke eye contact with him when he returned to the line of actors, which made Viktor feel slightly miffed.

After Yuuri returned to the line of actors, they all walked hand in hand to the front of the stage to take one final group bow. There was a final roar of applause as the curtains were drawn closed.

With the clapping done and the audience’s cheers down, Viktor turned to his young, grumpy companion.

“So, how was it?” he inquired.

“It was… it wasn’t bad," Yuri mumbled.

Viktor lightly smacked Yuri on the shoulder. “Come on, let’s get out of here. I want to buy the playbill.”

People started cheering as soon as Viktor stepped foot on the lobby. For a second, he thought they were cheering for him but soon realized they were cheering for the cast, who made their way to the lobby to greet the audience as they exited the theater.

That meant he could greet Yuuri too, right?

He spotted Yuuri to his left, talking with Yakov and the stage manager. He waved his hand to call Yuuri's attention and shouted.

“Yuu-”

“YUURI!” someone screeched as they shoved him aside.

What the hell?

His attacker was a lithe, tan man. Viktor saw him make a beeline to Yuuri and hugged the latter man tight. Viktor can’t help but feel miffed all over again. The man dragged Yuuri farther from where Viktor stood as more people pouted out of the theater. Since the crowd was so dense, he couldn't see where the pushy man dragged Yuuri off to.

With a resigned sigh, Viktor decided he wouldn’t be able to see Yuuri again that night.

But, with Yuuri as talented as he is, he expected they’ll meet again soon. Whether onstage or behind it.


	2. Funemployed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri and Viktor have work woes. Then everything changed when the triplets attacked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Apologies for not updating in a while. I don't really have a regular writing schedule since school comes first. 
> 
> Also I have no beta so sorry for any typos you may come across.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter! And thanks for sticking around!
> 
> (Also I tweaked the fic summary a little bit because I realized I left it too vague.)

_Hey Yuuri! How’s Japan treating you?_

Yuuri clenched his phone tight. For the past half hour, Yuuri’s attention was divided between staring at Phichit’s Facebook message, as if he could discover the secrets of the universe on it if he tried hard enough, and looking out the train’s window to see the landscape and think about a reply.

It was a simple question, yet why couldn’t he answer?

With a sigh, Yuuri ran a hand through his hair and slumped on his seat. The movement caused the unzipped duffel bag on his lap to fall to the floor, spilling its contents.

Yuuri cursed under his breath and picked the bag and its items up. He stuffed the bag with his fallen dirty laundry, bending over to reach under his seat for some of them. Once he cleared all the clothes on the floor his hands touched hard plastic. He pulled it out from under his seat and met eyes with a 2x2 picture of himself.

It was the plastic envelope where he kept copies of his actor’s resume.

Yuuri was surprised it was in his bag. He thought he got rid of it before leaving for Hasetsu from Tokyo. Still, he opened the envelope to read over it once more.

Maybe he’d get a clue as to why things weren’t looking up.

Again, he was met with a picture of himself smiling brightly to the camera. Written below it was his name, age, height, and contact details. Followed by his educational attainment and work experience, which he glossed over with another sigh. While Yuuri wasn’t foolish enough to think that he’d have his big break immediately after graduation, he thought he would have at least moved on beyond the random midnight television advertisement and non-speaking role on a drama in six months. But it is what it is – about a page of resume padding that spoke nothing of his acting skills.

After this dissatisfying once-over, Yuuri put his actor’s resume back in the envelope and pulled out another sheet with his full body shot and measurements.

He gripped the piece of paper hard as he saw his chubby body on the page with his weight typed down below it.

Oh dear lord, his weight.

Yuuri lost track of how many times he had to retake his full body shot and redo his measurements in the short time since he returned to Japan. Though he vividly remembered the dread that came with comparing his body shots and realizing there’s more fat in some areas than before, and with retyping his heavier weight.

The picture and the number seemed to taunt him at this point.

_You know why you can’t answer Phichit, Yuuri? This is why._

An announcement from the train’s speakers jostled Yuuri from his thoughts. They were about to arrive at Hasetsu, the cackled train conductor’s voice said. Shortly after, Yuuri was greeted with the familiar sight of the train station. He zipped his bag shut and exited the train, throwing the plastic envelope with his resume in the first trash can he saw.

As soon as he left the train station, a strong gust of cold, mid-January wind hit him and immediately chilled him to the bone. _What a warm greeting_ , he thought. Quite fitting for his failures as well.

He pulled his scarf up closer to his face and headed for the convenience store right across the station. The clock on the waiting shed suggested that there was 15 minutes before the next bus home would arrive, and Yuuri had no intention of waiting for it in the bitter cold.

As soon as he reached the store’s door he thought better of his decision.

On it was a poster of his several pounds lighter self in a travel ad for Hasetsu… next to a poster of katsudon. Talk about adding insult to injury.

He was about to turn around and head for the waiting shed when heard a familiar but unexpected voice call him from behind.

“Yuuri!”

Yuuri turned around and saw Minako-sensei doing a pirouette and grinning at him, a small banner with his name on it in her hands. He smiled back but could feel his pulse quicken and his palms sweat.

“Minako-sensei!” he said as he walked over to her. “I thought you were still in New York!”

“I got back a few days after you went to Tokyo,” she replied, wrapping Yuuri in her arms for a quick hug. “Sorry I didn’t tell – I wanted to surprise you!” She put an arm over his shoulder and giddily led him away. “Come on, I’ll drive you home!”

Yuuri thanked her for her offer but was growing more nervous the longer he was in Minako’s company. They made small talk on the way home about the weather and Minako’s career but Yuuri noticed his teacher never once asked about how his life was going. This, coupled with the fact that Minako was taking him back to Yu-Topia, could only mean that she planned on staying over to ask about him there, quite possibly in the presence of his family. He could only pray he doesn’t disappoint as much.

But that prayer may as well be asking for a miracle.

No more than fifteen minutes later, Minako parked her car in front of Yu-Tupia. She and Yuuri made their way inside and were immediately greeted by Hiroko, Yuuri’s mother.

“ _Okaeri_ , Yuuri! And hello, Minako-senpai! Thanks for picking up my son,” she said.

After the two greeted Hiroko in return, Yuuri went upstairs to put his bag down while Minako and Hiroko chatted away to the dining area. Yuuri entered his room and saw multiple posters of Viktor Nikiforov staring back at him. He blushed, suddenly remembering what happened before his play six months ago. While he was happy his idol helped him during one of his most crucial moments, the embarrassment that came with it was absolutely mortifying to the point that Yuuri would stop functioning for a good while whenever he thought about it. He never got a chance to thank Victor due to the whirlwind that was the post-play meet-and-greet and he doubted he would anytime soon, with his career going the way it was.

It was for the best, he thought. He had no clue how he what he would do if he were to see Viktor again, anyway.

Yuuri took off his coat and scarf. He put his bag down and grabbed a small, neatly wrapped box from his dresser, next to a photo of him and Minako when he was younger. The photo was taken in Minako’s dance studio – she was grinning her signature grin, Tony Award in hand, as chubby, five-year-old Yuuri placed a flower crown on her head. He remembered it was taken the day Minako returned from America, with Japan abuzz about her winning best actress at that year’s Tony Awards.

Yuuri’s heart swelled at the memory. He was quite proud that he was taught and inspired by his firey (albeit borderline crazy) teacher, and now fellow university alumnus. The box in his hand was a small token of appreciation, which he hoped will send the message through.

Also, it may work as a consolation of sorts once he tells Minako how much he’s disappointed her.

With a sinh and one last longing look at his Viktor posters, Yuuri exited his room and went down to the dining area. He found Minako sitting at her usual table, a glass of sake in hand. His nervousness came back as he sat across her but he steeled himself as put the small box on the table and pushed it in front of Minako.

“For you,” he said, head lowered.

“What’s this? You bribing me?” Minako inquired, cocking an eyebrow.

“No! It’s… kind of a thank you present. I wouldn’t have gotten into university if it weren’t for you,” he said with a small smile.

Minako’s eyes grew large in surprise before her lips curved to a grin. “Thank you, Yuuri! You didn’t have to. You’re talented – I’d use all my acting and dancing contacts any day if it helps you get your name out there!”

Her words, though meant to be comforting, they stabbed Yuuri like a knife. His name was, in fact, not out there as Minako hoped. He lowered his gaze as guilt started to consume him, hands clenching the hem of his shirt.

Minako noted his change in behavior. “You okay, kiddo?” she asked, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

Yuuri shook his head, carefully removing Minako’s hand and placing it back on the table. “I… I’m fine it’s just… I have something to tell you.”

In response, Minako hummed, poured sake in a cup, and pushed towards Yuuri. “Drink,” she said. “You look like you need it.”

Yuuri hesitantly took the cup and downed it in one gulp. The sake burned his throat, but it gave him a nice warm feeling.

“I…,” he trailed off, placing the sake cup back on the table. “I’m sorry for disappointing you.”

“What for, Yuuri?” Minako replied, refilling Yuuri’s cup and her own. “You haven’t done anything.”

“That’s just it!” Yuuri blurted, gulping down the sake again. “I haven’t done anything! Even after all you’ve done for me!”

Minako sighed, moved to the other side of the table, and sat next to Yuuri. “Listen, Yuuri. You’re a fresh grad. I don’t expect you to do something spectacular right off the bat. Success takes time.”

Yuuri looked at her, cheeks slightly red due to the alcohol. “I know… but I didn’t think it would be this hard.”

“It’s always hard when you’re starting out. It took a while to even _convince_ my parents to let me study in New York,” Minako continued, drinking from her sake cup. “But now I fund all their trips and they hardly complain!”

There was a short pause in their conversation as Minako stood up to get another bottle of sake from Toshiya’s stock. She set the bottle down on the table before sitting next to Yuuri again. “Hey, Yuuri,” she started. “I know you couldn’t stay in New York when your student visa expired but do you want to go back? We can get you a proper work visa and everything so you can try starting your career there. You were planning to be a theater actor anyway, right? It’s perfect!”

Yuuri’s eyes went wide in surprise. Go back to New York to finally work on theater? He wanted to say yes immediately but hesitated when he remembered what happened during their _Othello_ production.

Would he be able to take it?

His silence didn’t go unnoticed. Minako looked at him in the eyes and Yuuri knew immediately that she saw his hesitance. “I’m not asking you to give me an answer immediately, Yuuri. But think about it. Isn’t it hard for you to make all these trips to Tokyo? Why not try your luck where the grass is greener?”

“Thank you, Minako-sensei,” Yuuri replied, still clutching the hem of his shirt. “I… I’ll think about it.”

“Great!” Minako replied, raising the sake bottle high above her head. “Now let’s drink!”

\---

"They _snubbed_ me, Yakov."

Viktor put his hand on the table and leaned forward. “ _Me_! What? They nominate me for best actor six times in a row then suddenly think better of it?”

Yakov sighed and looked out of his office window. The New York skyline was completely visible, with the setting sun as its backdrop.

“The Academy’s nominations are always questionable,” he said. “I’m sure it’s no fault on your part. But…”

“But what?” Viktor asked, running a hand through his hair.

“There’s a trend with the Academy’s picks. You know why Leonardo DiCaprio took so long to get an Oscar?”

“Because he…” Viktor’s eyes widened with understanding. “He’s too good all the time – he couldn’t surprise people anymore.”

Yakov nodded in response. “Exactly. Not to boost your already huge ego but you’re too good, and that’s why the Academy doesn’t expect anything new from you.”

Viktor sat down the chair opposite Yakov’s desk, right index finger tapping his lips. “I can’t surprise people anymore, Yakov. Leo already got mauled by a bear to get his Oscar, so what the hell do _I_ have to do!?”

“Why don’t you try a change of pace? You can go back to theater, or go back to school,” Yakov answered.

Viktor nodded, as if considering the suggestion, then sighed. “Maybe. But what’s the point, anyway? None of this seems fun anymore.”

“Vitya…” Yakov trailed off.

“I’ve got no inspiration left – and this’ll be the death of me.”

“Always so dramatic,” Yakov said. “But you’re right.”

They stopped talking. Yakov took this as a chance to get some paperwork done while Viktor walked over to Yakov’s bookshelf, finger trailing the picture frames neatly lined on the top shelf. They were all pictures of Yakov’s students on their senior plays. Grinning, victorious faces stared back at Viktor as he looked through them. He even saw his younger self in the lineup, smiling a genuine smile that would soon be capitalized and worth billions in box office revenue. He sighed and looked at the other pictures, until he reached the final photo. It was the class that produced _Othello_ last school year. He looked through the faces and saw Yuuri Katsuki shyly smiling in the middle. Viktor’s lips curved to a smile.

“Hey, Yakov?” he said. “You got any word on how Yuuri Katsuki is doing?”

“The kid who played Othello recently? He went back to Japan right after graduation. Unfortunately I haven’t heard from him since.”

“Oh, that’s too bad,” Viktor replied, smile unconsciously turning into a frown.

“Why? Are you interested in him?”

“Direct to the point as always, Yakov,” Viktor said. “Yes. He’s really good. I think I’d be able to surprise Hollywood alongside an actor like him.”

“True, but he’s too shy. He has so much wasted potential.”

“Don’t I know it,” Viktor grinned, remembering the events from six months ago.

 _And cute, too_ , he thought.

Viktor shook his head, surprised by his own thoughts. _Did I just admit I found him cute? Six months after I met him and never saw him again?_

If he were paying attention to his surroundings, he’d see Yakov with a question in his eyes. But before Viktor could have time to ponder on his reaction and Yakov could ask what was going on, a loud knock on the door came.

 “Oi, Viktor! If you’re done with your pity party, you promised you’d help me with some acting exercises today. Hurry the fuck up!” Yuri shouted. Though he was outside, his voice was clearly heard, the room’s thick walls doing nothing to muffle it.

“Yuri, stop being such a loud child. I’m done! No need to try and bring the door down.”

There was a loud _hmph_ from the blond teen outside the room. Viktor waved goodbye to Yakov, which the latter man returned.

“About returning to theater or going back to school – think about it Vitya.”

“I’ll try,” Viktor said, before leaving the room.

\---

Yuuko sighed. She, her husband, and her triplets went to Yu-Topia to catch up with Yuuri and Minako over dinner. Well, that was the plan at least. They arrived two hours after Yuuri and Minako started drinking, which meant there would be no decent conversation with the two that night. At that moment, Yuuri and Minako were drunkenly singing and waltzing through the room to Celine Dion and Peabo Bryson’s rendition of “Beauty and the Beast.” The triplets were recording the whole thing on their smartphones while Yuuko’s husband Takeshi cheered. The two dancers were soon accompanied by Yuuri’s parents, awkwardly but adorably dancing out of the beat.

“So much for a get-together,” Yuuko said, almost to herself.

“It’s been a while since Yuuri’s had this much fun, so I’ll let it rest,” Mari responded. She lit a cigarette put it to her lips.  

“True. He’s been so gloomy lately,” Yuuko replied.

Mari exhaled a puff of smoke. “Work’s not coming for him, I guess.”

Their small talk was interrupted when Yuuri and Minako sang the final note way too loudly in unison before striking a pose. Takeshi, the triplets, Mari, and Yuuri’s parents clapped their hands.

The two took a bow before sitting down their table to drink more sake. They offer Yuuko and Takeshi to drink with them but the married couple refused, reasoning that they wouldn’t be able to take care of their kids if they did.

Speaking of their kids, Axel, Lutz, and Loop grinned, signaling Yuuko that mischief was about to commence.

“Hey, hey, Yuuri!” Axel began. “Can you do your impressions?” she asked.

“Yeah, impressions!” Lutz seconded.

“You’re really good at them!” Loop followed.

“Eh, ‘ya wanna see ‘em?” Yuuri slurred, slipping back into his Kyushu accent.

“Please?” the three said in unison.

“Alright! Since ‘ya asked so nicely.”

Yuuri began doing impressions of Japanese politicians, actors, and singers. Each one was exaggerated but completely on point. This left his audience roaring in laughter, even the inn’s guests.

“That was great, Yuuri!” Lutz exclaimed.

“Now do Viktor Nikiforov!” Loop continued.

“I’ll do him alright” Yuuri replied with a grin.

“Yuuri, there are children here!” Minako scolded, slapping Yuuri on the arm.

Yuuri pouted at her but began his impressions anyway. He started reciting Viktor’s lines with the actor’s signature Russian accent. He went through Viktor’s entire cinematographic history in ten minutes, reciting at least one line from each. When he was done, the triplets applauded. He reveled in the moment and bowed profusely at his audience. Minako reached out a bottle of sake to him which he chugged straight up.

And the rest of the night was black.

\---

Yuuri woke up with a headache. Damn, he shouldn’t have had that much sake on a single night. That will be the last time Minako will ever act as his enabler, he thought.

Though he knew that promise carried very little weight.

He grabbed his phone from his bedside table and pressed the home button to check the time. It was a little bit over noon, which was a bit later than his preferred wake-up time. With a yawn, he unlocked his phone and was met with various red numbers.

Holy shit his social media accounts exploded.

Yuuri’s Mail, Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram were chock-full of messages and other notifications. He looked at his phone in shock. He barely had ten in total on a regular day, so what brought this on?

A little bit more awake now, he opened his Facebook first. The first thing that popped into his newsfeed was a Buzzfeed article a college friend posted on his Timeline. It read _Japanese Man Drunk Impersonates Viktor Nikiforov._

Yuuri’s hands went clammy as soon as he read the title – he went viral.

Oh no.

On no, no, no, no, no.

Yuuri remembered doing impressions, but didn’t remember anyone recording them. With shaky fingers, he tapped on the article to watch the video. It was a YouTube video that began with him standing on top of a table, in the middle of impersonating a Japanese politician. Someone was gratuitous enough to add English subtitles at the bottom for people who couldn’t understand Japanese. His cheeks were flushed red from the alcohol and the hem of his shirt was pulled up to the collar, revealing his round tummy. There was a smiley face drawn with magic marker on it, with his belly button acting as the nose.

If it really was possible to die of embarrassment, someone would already be reading his eulogy.

After drunk video Yuuri finished his impersonation, sober Yuuri heard cheers from the crowd gathered around him in the video. He distinctly heard the triplets’ mischievous giggling nearest the camera.

That made a lot of sense. Well _of course_ the triplets uploaded the video probably uploaded it as soon as Yuuri passed out drunk. The mistake was on his part, really. He, even when drunk, should’ve known better than to do something stupid in front of the three social media mavens.

After the applause on the video ended, he heard on of the triplets say _“Now do Viktor Nikiforov!”_

 _“I’ll do him alright,”_ his drunk video self said, the subtitles capturing it perfectly.

 _Can I just disappear into the earth already_ , sober Yuuri thought.

His drunk self then went on reciting lines from every Viktor Nikiforov movie ever – from the actor’s first Cannes-nominated indie romance film to his latest critically acclaimed thriller. Yuuri spoke with Viktor’s trademark Russian accent, never once missing a beat as he changed movies. He would’ve been impressed at himself, if he wasn’t so embarrassed about the world seeing how much of a fanboy he is.

When the video ended, Yuuri ignored the rest of his social media notifications and did the most logical thing: call Phichit.

He called his best friend on FaceTime and it only took two rings for the Thai to pick up. Phichit was in his room, three hamsters resting on his shoulders.

“WHAT THE HELL, YUURI!?” Phichit yelled, startling his pets. “You ignore me on Facebook and the next thing I know you’re viral!”

“I know… I’m sorry.” Yuuri replied with a sigh. “Yuuko’s kids recorded me then uploaded it on the internet.”

“You mean the cheeky triplets?” Phichit responded, petting his three hamsters in apology.

“Yeah. I got drunk then shit happened.”

“You bet your ass shit happened! The whole world knows you’re a Nikiforov fan now! And that you want to _do_ him!” Phichit said, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. “Ever wonder if people at school saw it?” he continued.

“Don’t remind me, Phichit,” Yuuri replied, tone raised as a warning, “I found out because a batchmate tagged me on Facebook. So yeah, probably.”

Yuuri sighed again, defeated. “What do I do, Phichit?”

“Yuuri…” Phichit began, eyes concerned. “This whole thing is super embarrassing but remember the internet has goldfish memory. Whenever any of my dumb Instagram or Vine posts accidentally went viral, the fame would only last a month, tops.”

“You sure?” Yuuri asked, hope in his voice.

“Sure I’m sure, Yuuri!” Phichit said with a smile. “Would I ever lie to you when it counts?”

“I like how you had to buffer what you said with ‘when it counts’,” Yuuri replied with a small giggle.

“Hey, just because I’m your number one supporter doesn’t mean that I can’t mess with you.”

“Thanks, Phichit,” Yuuri, said. “I’ll have to hang up now, I have to talk to my family about this whole thing.”

“Anytime, Yuuri. Talk to you soon yeah? AND DON’T IGNORE ME WHEN I MESSAGE YOU!” Phichit answered, pointing his index finger at Yuuri in exaggerated nagging movements.

“Yes, mom.” Yuuri said in a teasing tone. “Bye!”

Yuuri ended the call with a final wave to Phichit. He flopped down the bed and groaned into his pillow. Phichit had a point: the internet would soon forget. But the problem was what he would do while it still remembered. How would he tell his parents? Can he still walk around unrecognized?

Sure, any up-and-coming actor would glad for the viral attention. Problem is it wasn’t the kind of attention his career needed.

With one last groan, he stood up and headed for the dining area, musing over how he’d break the news of his international fame to his family.

\---

Viktor woke up due to the various notification sounds from his phone. What was it now? He needed to stop forgetting to silent it during his down time.

He nudged Makkachin to get off his chest, which the curly-maned dog obliged after a final pet on the head. Viktor stood up from the couch and grabbed his phone from the coffee table. As usual, his social media accounts had multiple notifications – declarations of love and admiration from fans with some hate mail on the side.  

There was, however, one bit of news that kept repeating. Something about a Japanese man drunk impersonating him. It even trended on Twitter with the hashtag #JapaneseViktor.

Curiosity finally getting the better of him, Viktor clicked an articled and played the video that went with it. He sat back on the couch as it loaded, Makkachin crawling up to lie on him.

Viktor’s eyes widened in surprise as the video began to play.

It was Yuuri Katsuki.

 _Drunk_ Yuuri Katsuki.

He was impersonating Viktor and it was adorable!

Viktor watched the rest of the video with a giant grin on his face. Yuuri Katsuki was red from drinking with his shirt pulled up to reveal his tummy vandalized with a smiley face. The Japanese was reciting all of Viktor’s lines from every movie he’d ever been in, copying even Viktor’s accent.

Viktor was no stranger to impersonations. After all, it was a side effect to fame. But Yuuri’s impersonation was great, a testament to how good an actor he is.

It also made Viktor extremely giddy. _He’s my fan!_ he thought. While he’d had many fans over the years, knowing Yuuri Katsuki was one of them made him extremely happy.

The happiness was a refreshing feeling, considering the dour mood he’d been in since the Academy announced their Oscar nominations. It was akin to what he experienced when he was on the set of his first film – excited bursting with ideas and inspiration.

 _That’s it!_ he thought. _Inspiration!_

Riding on his high, Viktor scratched Makkachin’s ear and exclaimed.

“You know what boy? We’re going to Japan!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just finished writing this chapter but I'm already super excited to write the next one! This and the previous chapter are mostly exposition and the fic will start picking up at chapter 3. 
> 
> I'm writing only whenever I have time so I have no idea when the next update will be. But expect nothing in the next two weeks because it's midterms season. Again, thank you so much for reading this!

**Author's Note:**

> I set this at 15 chapters so if you like what you read I want you to hold me on that promise.
> 
> Also, hit me up at hazelisanutcase.tumblr.com if you want to talk/fangirl!


End file.
